


Pure of Mind

by arsenicisnaturaltoo



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Heartbreak, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicisnaturaltoo/pseuds/arsenicisnaturaltoo
Summary: Talion and Celebrimbor are ripped apart after forging the new ring. Talion goes looking for his other half, smut ensues.





	Pure of Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justcallmecappy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcallmecappy/gifts).



> Completely separate from my other story, but I just can't find a better place to kinda shoe-horn in my indulgent smut. I do hope you enjoy- considering writing some kinkier things for these two, but I can't reasonably fit them into the story, I think they'll have to be standalone. Do let me know if you have any requests!

Emptiness. Like his entire right side has been carved out, removed, awkwardly deleted. Talion in the scorching heat of the mountain, the newly forged ring glowing blue and tantalising, just out of reach. A terrible loneliness fills the very air of his lungs. His mind is achingly silent, no acerbic mutterings and bitter observations. He feels as if the part of his soul has deserted him and it’s choking him with its absence.  

 

How much more can he lose? Everyone he loved in life, and now whom he loved in death. Unsaid and unacknowledged, beaten down by convention and tradition, but nonetheless there. There he lay, that old wound opened and his life force draining upon rock, abandoned by the elf lord he loved, too devastated to do anything but breathe. In and out, breathing for his lord in his final moments. Hoping he would find him again in the afterlife, allowing his eyes to close and his fingers stop reaching for the last thing he had to remind him of his wraith.

 

And he hears his name.

 

Talion forces his eyes open, the desperate hope rising in his throat.  He hears it again. Unmistakably that voice. And so he cannot die, not while his wraith calls for him in a tone so inconceivably desolate, when he clearly wants him to find him.

 

So with the last of his strength, he grabs at Celebrimbor’s ring and shoves it on, index finger, left hand, where elves wear rings their mates give them. His neck sutures itself with scar tissue and the bleeding ceases. Shakingly, he gets to his feet, possessed by the simple necessity of meeting the demand asked of him by the one being he could not refuse.

 

 The ring shows him the way, pulls him towards its master and he just flies. Ignores the burning of muscles pushed past endurance, pays no heed to his lack of breath and the deafening beats of his hearts, he runs with everything he has towards the bright blue light in his vision. Where Celebrimbor is.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Celebrimbor cannot move, he is suspended as if like a marionette on strings. His spirit is so drained, so exhausted from this fruitless struggling, he can do nothing but say his beloved’s name, slowly, like a talisman, and pray to everything that he can find him. Just so he could see his face, one last time. Because Celebrimbor is already a wraith, he cannot die again but banishment to a deeper world, far away from Talion, is far worse than a thousand painful deaths.

 

He hangs in midair, undignified, humiliated. His arms stretched out and held aloft by some unseen magic and it prompts a hated memory to return, unbidden, from the past he so fiercely wishes he could still no longer remember…

 

_The heavy chains pull his arms apart and behind him, secured to opposite corners of the room. Force him to his knees and immobilise him. His shoulders are agony, his legs below the knee entirely deadened, his whole body ruined by beatings and abuse. But that was nothing compared to his emotional pain. The brutalizing anguish of having loved so completely and having been so wrong. Of being a pawn on a master player’s chess board, to be used and discarded at will, without reverence or mercy. Celebrimbor had heard of elves dying of grief, of irreparably broken hearts before, yet never held patience for such a thought._

_How grimly fate mocked him. He might truly perish from the intensity of his misery. His beautiful, golden Maia who lay before him with his hair spread on the pillow like the sunset across the valley. Who would wake him with luscious, slow kisses in the morning and read to him in the evening. Who would reduce an imperious elf lord to shrieks as he chased him laughing around their chambers… all lies. All arts and deceit, their romance was just another layer of manipulation. No more significant than a carefully executed connivance._

_Footsteps. Quiet ones._

_Annatar._

_The broken elf raised his head as much as he could muster, and the sheer beauty of Annatar forced the air from his lungs. A deformed sob. Anger at the betrayal like bitter shards of glass but the hopelessly ardent devotion still envelops his heart. He cannot help it, entirely out of his control. He loves him._

_Annatar raises the mithril hammer, the most fine of his gifts. Celebrimbor does not look away, refuses to flinch or do anything except hopelessly love him, as Annatar destroys his consciousness  with one blow._

He jerks out of the reverie, ghostly tears pouring down his cheeks. Countless times he relives his blindness, his imprisonment, his grief, his love and his demise. Over and over, the magic that binds him can torture him like nothing else. Lost inside his head, he fears he will slip entirely into madness, and so he could never see his light, his unstoppable Talion again. His worst memories on repeat, stretching and fraying his sanity.

 

He hears his name, shouted with fervour and panic. And so, history echoes, he raises his head as much as he can, and sees his heart before him. _Talion_.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

His joy at having found the missing pieces of his soul, his fragmented being tracked and located is squashed by panic and murderous rage at finding him imprisoned. And so hatefully so, from the ground he can see the agony in his wraith’s face, observe the tears dripping off his chin and feel his devastated spirit.

 

Shelob steps out from the shadows.

 

He very nearly kills her with one well placed arrow. She clenches a fist and the wraith is thrown back into his horrifying memories with a terrible moan.

 

Talion cannot stand it, cannot sit idle and watch another he loved tortured before him. He offers the ring, allows his throat to be opened once more, his head full of Celebrimbor and hopes that he would forgive him. Blackness again.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Celebrimbor darts to his boy and sinks his being down into the still form. There’s such _goodness_ in Talion’s soul, it’s blinding and burning, like frozen steel on soft flesh. So moral, so diffident, so strong. He always did what was right, what was necessary. A soul that puts everyone else before himself. A beautiful, inflexible spirit. _His._

Two splintery edges knitting together, reinforcing and stabilising their fragmented souls. The whole so much greater, so much more powerful than the sum of their parts. The unstoppable force and the immovable object working in harmony.

 

Talion’s still exceptionally weak from his latest brushes with death, so Celebrimbor must carry him. Carry him away from that horrible place, wear his beloved’s body and force it to take itself (and him) far. One step after the other.

 

He bears him through the night, stopping some hours before dawn in a clearing run through with a small river. Lies his boy down on the soft moss by the river bank, separates from his body and wets some cloth in the river to wipe the dried blood from his neck and chest. His tender ministrations showing his gratitude, his appreciation. Little acts of love.

 

And Talion awakes. Looks up at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, like a child wanting comfort. “Celebrimbor…. I thought I had lost you” Talion chokes out, tears behind his eyes, his voice husky. All shyness forgotten in his obvious relief that he’s both alive and not alone anymore.

 

Celebrimbor smiles grimly and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You were so brave, beloved, you found me, you saved me” he whispered in his boy’s ear. Felt the rush of blood in Talion’s cheek, a blush of modesty and pleasure. So beautifully alluring.

 

The elf leans back and brings a hand up to his boy’s face. With the lightest of touches, he traces his lower lip, committing his features to memory. Pushes his translucent hand up Talion’s cheek. Enjoying the colour and the heat. _Paint could not begin to replicate the way his flush dies along his throat._ Savouring how pliant he is allowing himself to be. His warrior, his soldier. _His._

 

Talion’s breath hitches, his eyes close and he slumps backwards. Celebrimbor follows him, lying down beside his boy, stroking his face and kissing his eyelids. Muttering his name and declarations, his refusal to ever leave him again, how well he did…. Never quite kissing his mouth until Talion knotted his hand in his long, dark hair and forced him to kiss him properly.

 

Tentative at first. The elf knew men were not as evolved as elves, held primitive ideas about the sexes that could constitute a relationship. Could feel the hesitance, the battling within himself against the convention, and his resolve. One that Celebrimbor was sure they shared. How could something be wrong when it felt just so right?

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Talion decided this was the way it should always be. His wraith’s long hair held in his fist, his arousal against his thigh and that glorious mouth gliding through lascivious kisses.

 

He yanks on the elf’s hair, forcing his head back to expose his pale neck and coercing a moan from his throat. Talion lathes his tongue over where Celebrimbor’s pulse would quiver if it ran, adoring him, holding him close and tightly. He slides his fingers underneath his wraith’s breast plate, delicious contact but no where near enough.

 

He begins to unfasten his elf’s armour, slowly. Inviting rejection but hoping with everything he has that he will not be stopped.

 

“You will not be stopped, beloved”

 

Talion grimaces, drops his face to hide his flush. Celebrimbor quietly chuckles and holds him to himself even tighter.

 

“You are thinking very loudly, my love. But I will not stop you. Indeed, you’ll be in trouble if you do stop” his elf gently threatens. His sardonic self smothered in need and want. Such irresistible arrogance.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

All Celebrimbor wanted was his to have. His boy in his arms, clearly desirous of him, scared of taking it further but obviously desperate to do so. His overwhelming innocence tangible and strangling his arousal.

 

The ghost of Annatar flickers through the back of Celebrimbor’s head, how could it be different this time? He had been through this with a beautiful being before, and suffered terrible consequence. How could he reconstruct and open his heart again, when it had been so thoroughly decimated before?

 

_He must be sure._

 

As surreptitiously as possible, whilst he languorously kisses his boy, he brings his left hand up to his boy’s temples, and dives into his head. Talion’s eyes fly open, Celebrimbor’s blue light shines through then and his mouth falls slack.

 

But there.

 

Celebrimbor has his proof. That which cannot lie. Can look into his boy’s very soul and see the pristine white expanse of _love_. His devotion, his worship. No dark stains of manipulation or corruption. Nothing artful or deceitful. Simply his boy,  pure as driven snow, ablaze with passion and fealty. So bright it’s painful. _Oh Talion._

 

Celebrimbor withdraws from his boy’s head. Expects to be rebuked and rejected. Expects to be punished for such liberties and such invasion. Waits for the inevitable pain. But he just _had to know._

 

Talion lifts his wraith’s face so their eyes may meet, the elf jolted and ashamed to find only quiet understanding and acceptance in his lover’s eyes.

 

“You see, my love?” his boy asked him gently. “Only you”.

 

Abandoning all pretensions at restraint or dignity, Celebrimbor throws himself onto the man. Willing his armour to spring itself from his body, crushing his boy with his weight and commanding his mouth to open to his invading tongue. Kissing him with everything he had, wanting to show him that he understood. He strips Talion’s armour off him with lightning speed, casually tossing the pieces aside.

 

Clad now only in cloth; Talion’s rough-hewn, Celebrimbor’s fine and soft, their bodies press together. Rocking gently, enjoying the intimacy. A moment outside of the relentless march of time. A stolen second of solipsism.

 

The elf rolls them over, pulling Talion beneath him and the air _ignites._ He pushes his ghostly hands underneath Talion’s shirt, running his fingers up his torso to tug it off him, whilst Talion tries to divest Celebrimbor of his. The passion impedes both their progress but neither will give in. A battle of wills and ardour.

 

The elf pulls his head down to latch his mouth around his boy’s nipple, that immediately hardens under his tongue. A tremor runs through Talion’s body and a moan escapes him. The sound rushes straight to his groin, and the elf gets achingly, painfully hard immediately. He grinds his length into Talion’s upper thigh, kissing and touching every part of his boy he can. He pulls the man’s arms above his head and secures them with one hand, grasping the other under the small of Talion’s back, forcing him to arch his back into him.

 

He yanks Talion’s breeches down, slipping his fingers down into heat, stroking his hole with his fingertips. Rewarded with a gasp and an entire body shudder. Exquisite.

 

He draws back onto his flanks, pulling the breeches off with him. His beautiful boy’s cock lies so hard and so wanting against that creamy white skin. Celebrimbor takes him into his hand and runs his tongue along him, base to tip. Talion’s thighs tremble and his gasp turns into a full blown pant. His tongue caresses the head as he takes him into his mouth. Worships him, revels in the heady flavour of lust and musk. Lifts his eyes to find Talion has thrown an arm over his eyes, his whole body racked with great, shuddering gulps.  He hollows his cheeks, sucking almost painfully, sliding up and down until he can feel the man’s body showing signs of impending climax. _Patience, my sweet boy._

 

Celebrimbor lifts up and pushes one finger into his own mouth. Slicks it with obscene abandon and knocks his boy’s legs apart to allow him to tease his hole. Relishing the rather beautiful way he clenches as the elf carefully pushes inside. Teasing a cry that could almost be of pain from his boy’s throat.

 

The elf gently rocks his fingers inside the tight heat, brushing against the little bundle of nerves that cause a delicious moan. Gliding in and out, savouring the flush spreading over his boy’s body and his expression of overwhelming bliss. Kissing his collarbones and up his neck, breathing in that uniquely Talion scent.

 

“If I could see you every day for the rest of eternity, Talion, I would remember this time” he whispers against the man’s skin. Combines his declaration with a particularly brutal stroke of his prostate and Talion’s truly obscene moan reminds him of his own unmet need.

 

The elf pulls his fingers out, positions himself on his knees between his boy’s spread thighs. Glances down at his hole, pink and glistening from his earlier attentions. How he would so like to taste him there, but surely his modest boy would not allow it?

 

With a slight smirk, he drops down and slowly, ardently runs his tongue flat over his boy’s hole. Talion’s breathing stalls, his limbs slacken completely and he slumps onto the ground with force.

 

“No, my love, don’t…”

 

“Just let yourself enjoy it, I assure you I am” Celebrimbor hushes his objections by pressing another open-mouthed kiss directly where it was needed. Rewarded with a gasp. Tantalisingly slowly, he narrows his tongue to slide it into his boy. Talion’s cry of passion is almost a scream, propriety forgotten he knots his hands into the elf’s hair, holds him still and grinds his hips wantonly into his mouth. How perfect he is in his throes of pleasure, taking what he wanted, what he needed. Celebrimbor obliges with a willing tongue until he can bear it no longer, and deftly releases himself from Talion’s grasp.

 

There he kneels, his boy a quivering wreck beneath him, Celebrimbor so agonisingly hard. He carefully guides himself to his boy’s entrance, swollen and slick. Talion stares up at his face, adoring him, ready for more.

 

Celebrimbor sinks into him in one push. Discomfort flickers on Talion’s face, the elf kissing it away.

 

“It hurts, beloved?”

 

Talion shakes his head. The elf notes that lying does not become him. “Exquisite pain” Celebrimbor breathes. Begins rocking his hips, sliding his length in and out of that incredibly tight heat.

 

The man’s hands scramble down the elf’s back, caressing his waist and pulling him closer. Kissing him fiercely and thoroughly. Breaking away to groan and chant his name as slight pain gives way to all pleasure.

 

Celebrimbor sets a punishing rhythm, lifting his hips and snapping them down again, Talion’s rising to meet him each time. Their combined moans a symphony of pleasure. Soon, he can feel Talion’s body start to clench around him, doesn’t need Talion’s warning or his pleas. Wraps his hand around his boy’s cock to stroke him in earnest, steeling himself to last until he can watch his boy come.

 

The merest touch of his hand seems to be enough. Talion’s whole body convulses, constricts around the elf’s length, gasps dripping from his throat and he comes long and hard. Celebrimbor pounds him through it, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, recording every movement.

Talion slumps back, shaking through the aftershocks. The elf has what he wanted, so permits his iron control to break and pushes in as far as possible, coming deep within his boy with a groan. Screws his eyes shut as the pleasure pulses through him. His boy strokes his back and mutters his avowals, how beautiful he is and how good he feels.

 

Celebrimbor lays on his back, gathers his boy to himself and kisses his head. Staring up at the stars, feeling as if he’ll never have to be alone again. Grateful his heart is in such capable hands. _Talion._


End file.
